


Flamingo Bus Stop

by Depressedstressedlemonzest



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining, 6000 years of friendship, 6000 years of love, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Armageddidnt, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Good Omens Secret Santa 2019, Happy Aziraphale, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), No Sex, No Smut, Pining, Protective Crowley, Quote: We're On Our Own Side (Good Omens), Quote: You can stay at my place (Good Omens), but they just saved the world, happy crowley, making each other laugh, notpocolypse, slightly angsty, soft, they hold hands, they're allowed to be angsty, what are those flamingoes doing, who really know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:21:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22268581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Depressedstressedlemonzest/pseuds/Depressedstressedlemonzest
Summary: This is the scene at the bus stop after the notpocolypse, wasnt quite sure how far to go with it, but I think I got a good stopping point!
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	Flamingo Bus Stop

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is for @emperor-paulpatine!!  
> I'm sorry it's quite late, got struck with a bug and was sick.  
> I hope you enjoy it!

The night was dark, lit only by the close by street lamp and the stars in the sky.  
The air was cool, not too cold to need a jacket, but cool enough to make goosebumps pop up on the bare skin, to make the hairs on one’s arm stand up and quiver.

Not many things were active this time of night, no creatures stirring in the brush, no loud noises from neighborhood children, no cars going by; except a mail truck that had just left the premises. Odd for this time of night, but then again, what wasn’t odd about the entire day? The entire week?

A lone bus stop was lit by the street lamp, and on the bench, two beings, sitting, waiting, passing a wine bottle between the two of them to pass the time, and to help dull their nervous energy that was still stirring from the day’s events.

The first man shaped being, slender with a crop of red hair, who was wearing sunglasses though it was night time, passed the wine bottle to the other man shaped being sitting on his left, who was not wearing sunglasses upon his face, but a distinguishing tartan bowtie that rested at the top of his throat, resting just under a pinch of extra flesh under his chin.

The second man shaped being, took the wine bottle to his lips and took a swing of the Cabernet Sauvignon, trying to wash away some of the leftover feelings from earlier in the day.

As he did this the first man shaped being stole a gaze at the second.

‘Aziraphale.’ He thought, the name going through his mind had the same effect as melted caramel, filling him full of an oozing warmth. He had so many emotions going through his head as he looked upon the angelic man next to him.

The dim lighting from the street lamp did nothing to dull the glow that came off the white blond curls atop Aziraphale’s head. The shadows the lamp cast danced across his face, lighting up his straight patrician nose, enunciating the depths of the lines in his face, creating noble folds in his skin. Those lines highlighted the clear blue that shone from his eyes, still twinkling in the star light, though, the red haired being could tell, they had a weariness to them that he hadn't seen in centuries.

The Aziraphale closed his eyes as he took another drink his plump lips enveloping the bottle's opening, his pudgy manicured hands gripping the bottle easily, as if this was a customary hobby for him, and the red haired being gazed upon him still from behind the dark sunglasses perched on his nose.   
Aziraphale's usual prim posture was slightly slouched, but seeing as they faced off Satan himself just hours prior, a little slouch was expected.  
His centuries old taupe topcoat hugged his form in a pleasant way, wrapped around his thick arms to show the power and softness that resided there, the same power that held a flaming sword up prepared for a fight, the same softness that hugged the curly haired boy goodbye.

The topcoat, and velvet waistcoat underneath, bloomed out slightly at the torso, his wide pillowy chest beginning a series of slopes and curves underneath the ancient dressware. Just past his breastbone a bigger curve made a larger downward slope, pressing against the velvet waistcoat's ancient buttons.  
Plushness and softness promised underneath the waistcoat, and the red haired being wanted to hold that promise closely, hold all of him closely.

Aziraphale stopped drinking from the wine bottle, his weary gaze set forward.   
The red haired being gave a half smile and reached for the wine bottle simultaneously as Aziraphale turned to hand it back.

"Oh there it is," Aziraphale says, as he points at an oncoming bus.   
"It says Oxford on the front." He said in a somewhat puzzled and concerned tone. 

His blue eyes drifting from the bus to his bench mate who was now turned away to look at the arriving vehicle.

"Yeah, but he'll drive to London anyway, just won't know why. " the red haired being said simply.

As the red haired being's gaze was still facing the oncoming bus, Aziraphale took this moment to gaze upon him.

'Crowley' he thought, the name giving him an all all over sensation that of cool black silk, draping over every tendril of thought in his mind.  
A warm hum went through him, as it did any time he saw the demon.   
His lips parted on a silent sigh as he tried to grasp all the emotions running through him, rapidfire, as he gazed upon the being next to him.

The headlights of the approaching bus lit the fire tones of Crowley's cropped mane of thick crimson locks. The hairs at the nape of his neck were getting long enough to start to curl again, Aziraphale's mind gave him a flash of memory, of a garden wall, a millenia ago, where the long flowing locks of scarlet flowed past the shoulders of the demon sent up to cause trouble.

Barely visible at this angle was the snake tattoo on the side of his face, at the delicate skin near his ear. The serpent, a demonic shadow of what, who he used to be, who he was, a demon, but not like any other demon the angel had known.  
Crowley was kind, nice, his friend, he had a pure heart that shone as golden as the eyes he hid behind the dark sunglasses he wore. The eyes that made Aziraphale quiver whenever he caught a glimpse of them.

Crowley slightly shifted making his angular face catch the light for a moment. His sharp arrogant nose casting a shadow on the rest of his angular face.   
That face was one that could start and end wars over, and hadn't they though? At least prevented a war.  
A face full of deep grooves tracing across his forehead, constantly deepening from his brows furrowing with worry.  
Thin spidery lines decorated the corners of his eyes, they would deepen when he smiled, they would dance when he raised a single auburn eyebrow, they would crinkle when he laughed.  
Hidden lines around his mouth would form when he laughed, especially when he had a proper laugh, full of deep belly chuckles, mouth wide open showing grinning teeth, head thrown back.   
He had a laugh that could make the world stop.

Aziraphale looked forward, trying to keep the quickening beats of his heart at a manageable pace.   
He stared ahead, looking at a lawn across the street in front of one of the houses. The house had tacky pink flamingo lawn ornaments set up, not just one flamingo, not just a couple, a whole flock of pink plastic flamingoes and they seemed to be in a choreographed design, but one that Aziraphale could not place.

"I suppose I should get him to drop me off at the bookshop." Aziraphale said softly, thinking, trying to name the scene that the flamingoes were imitating.

Crowley turned swiftly from facing the bus to face Aziraphale, his face softening, the lines of his forehead deepening, his thin lips twisting downwards, "it burned down, remember?" He said softly.

Aziraphale's gaze flitted from the flamingoes to Crowley, he blinked a couple times focusing his gaze and attention on the words Crowley had just said. 

"Oh, right." Aziraphale said as he registered what Crowley had uttered.

Aziraphale's face pulled into an expression that made Crowley ache inside.   
Those lovely big blue eyes had gone watery, the eyebrows above them knitted themselves closer together, the thick bottom lip gave a small wobble. 

Aziraphale turned his gaze back to the flamingoes, seeing them in tunnel vision as everything in his peripherals fell away. He took a shaky breath in trying to keep his composure, trying to keep his thoughts from tallying up everything; all the books, first editions, collector items, his flat above the bookshop, and all the belongings there. Oh goodness his antiques, his antique Duffner and Kimberly lamp, the Apple Blossom painting by Monet, his antique preserved clothes, all the things the flames had taken from him.

Crowley glanced at Aziraphale's expression for less than half a second, seeing the slight panic rising in the way his mouth was set, the sorrow growing in his eyes, the pain in the furrow of his brow, before saying,   
"You can stay at my place,"   
Aziraphale looked back to Crowley's face at those words as they jolted him out of the flamingo tunnel and spiral of thoughts painted with anxiety.  
His emotions froze, and then they all fell away, leaving his mind blank, white, crisp, anew.  
"If you like." Crowley added gently.

Aziraphale gave a slightly noticeable gulp, and looked away from Crowley's face, pausing, parting his lips, trying to slow his heart that had jolted at those words.   
Then his eyes locked with Crowley's again, catching the gold behind the dark sunglasses, glowing with earnesty and, something else.   
Aziraphale looked away again before responding, trying to gather his thoughts coherently. 

"I don't think my side would like that." Aziraphale croaked slightly, his mouth feeling dry on the delivery of that line. A slightly bitter taste left dancing over his tongue, his heart twisting at the response he gave.

"You dont have a side anymore. " Crowley said in a sincerely tender tone, his voice vibratoing up and down as smooth as cashmere.  
His head tilted toward the angel at his side, his eyebrows raised up causing the grooves in his forehead to deepen.

Aziraphale looked back at him, locking his blue eyes with Crowley's golden ones. 

"Neither of us do." Crowley added, his voice still a bit shaky.  
He wanted to say the right words, words that would mean something and that would help Aziraphale.   
Help him come down from the anxiety attack he was on the brink of.   
Help him realize that he wasn't going to be alone.   
Help him realize that he would never let him sit on a park bench and freeze to discorporation without a bookshop to return to.   
Help him realize that it would all be okay.

They looked long at each other, time passing between them, it seemed as if all the 6000 years on Earth they had spent in each other's company replayed for them in that shared look.  
The first moment on the wall, all of the surprise meetings over the years, every time they rescued each other, each phone call, each secret park meeting, each lunch, each drinking session, each moment flitted between them.

"We're on our own side." Crowley said, his voice solidified and sure, no longer wavering with nerves and self doubt.  
This he was certain of, he was always on Aziraphale's side, and always welcomed the angel to be by his.   
But now they really had each other, only each other.

"Like Agnes said, we are going to have to choose our faces wisely." Crowley said after a pause to gauge Aziraphale's reaction to that proclamation.

Aziraphale set his gaze ahead, thinking deeply about what Crowley had just said. About being on their own side.   
He stared at those blasted flamingoes again, they taunted him as what Crowley said echoed in his mind.  
Crowley looked up at the bus and raised a slender hand at it, waving it down.  
As the bus rolled to a stop the pair stood and climbed aboard.  
Crowley first, then Aziraphale. 

As Crowley walked down the narrow aisle of the bus his eyes scanned the two patrons already aboard it.  
A mother and her young child sat in the back. The mother was sleeping, her arms wrapped around the child, the child was preoccupied with a cartoon playing on a cell phone.  
Crowley took a seat by the window and leaned against the side of the bus, the side of his head pressed against the cool glass.  
His eyes closing behind his sunglasses, the weariness of the day's activities suddenly hitting him all at once. 

Aziraphale followed Crowley onto the bus, carefully walking down the aisle, noting the mother and child in the back.  
He paused to sit in the seats in front of Crowley out of old habit, not be seen together, not to fraternize openly, not to associate with the demon outside of locales that wouldn't be under suspicion.

But.... if they were on their Own Side now....  
They could do whatever they wanted...   
He, could do whatever he wanted...

Aziraphale tugged on his coat and took a deep breath and slid into the seat next to Crowley. 

Crowley's eyes snapped open at the feeling of someone settling in the seat next to him and he turned to tell them off, and realized it was Aziraphale.   
He unslouched from the side of the bus and looked around at the other patrons again, to be sure no agents of Heaven or Hell were there, and then his gaze fell on the angel next to him.

Crowley could feel the fear radiating off of Aziraphale, the fear that had been there for years, the fear of getting caught, of Crowley getting destroyed by Hell if they were found out, the lesser fear of him getting reprimanded by Heaven.  
The fear of losing his best friend.  
Crowley wanted to reach for Aziraphale's hand, help calm his nerves, help reassure him that they would be okay, but he didn't want to give the angel a heart attack, he had just gotten this corporation back, would be a shame to ruin it. And he wasn't one hundred percent sure of his thought either but it was better than the doubts snaking through his mind.

Aziraphale gulped, and looked forward, he reached up to shakily adjust his bowtie, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  
He then turned to Crowley, his gaze going past him for a moment.

"Can you tell what those blasted flamingoes are supposed to be doing?" He asked in an exasperated tone.

"What flamingoes?" Crowley sputtered turning to look out the bus window. 

Aziraphale leaned closer and pointed out the window, his chest pressing gently against Crowley's back.  
Crowley stiffened as he felt the soft warm corporation of the angel pressing against his back.

"There, I've been stumped on what they're supposed to be depicting since the delivery man left." Aziraphale said in Crowley's ear, his voice soft and flustered, his arm reaching past him and pointing out the window.

Crowley gulped and followed the point of the finger to the site of a lawn that had roughly thirty big pink plastic flamingoes in an odd sort of pattern.  
Crowley stared at it a moment trying to focus his attention on it instead of the feel of the weight of Aziraphale's arm on his shoulder, the feel of the warmth radiating from it.   
Tried to focus on the bloody flamingo pattern and not on the scent of the angel filling his nostrils, the scent of amber and oud and old books.  
Tried to focus on the ridiculous pink plastic birds and not on the warmth emitting from the Angel's soft body.

Crowley took a deep breath and stared out the window.

Aziraphale smiled to himself as he saw how flustered Crowley became with him so close, finally getting a taste of his own medicine the tempter.

"Er, I think, they're supposed to be recreating the scene froooom....." Crowley started, then he scoffed and snapped his fingers.

Aziraphale watched as the flamingoes began moving around the lawn and were now looking like a scene from The Nutcracker Ballet, moving and flapping about clumsily.

Aziraphale fell back into his seat with a laugh, and Crowley smiled and rested back in his seat.  
Grinning like a fool at seeing the Angel's dazzling smile, Crowley closed his eyes and felt his shoulders untensing and his jaw unclenching.  
Suddenly he felt something else.  
His eyes flashed open and his gaze whipped to his hand, which had something now resting on top of it.  
Something warm, and soft, and smooth, something attached to the angel sitting next to him.   
Crowley's gaze went from the pair of their hands, up to Aziraphale's face. 

The angel was grinning cautiously, with pink stained cheeks and a slight crinkle to the corner of his eyes, which were not looking at Crowley, they were looking forward, but Crowley caught them flashing to their hands and back forward.   
Crowley saw Aziraphale gulp, the bob of his bowtie giving it away.  
Crowley gave a slow smile, and laced his thin knobby fingers with Aziraphale's chubby soft fingers, and he gave the Angel's hand a squeeze.

As Crowley squeezed his hand Aziraphale's grin broadened and his posture relaxed in the bus seat.  
He leaned his head back in the seat and closed his eyes, humming gently deep in his throat.  
As the bus jostled them around in their seats Aziraphale gently nestled his head on Crowley's shoulder, his big blue eyes looking up at him tentatively, not wanting to cross a line.   
Crowley felt a smile slide across his face, and he looked down at the angel on his shoulder.   
He raised an eyebrow at Aziraphale when their eyes met and he gave his plump hand a squeeze, letting him know that this was okay. Aziraphale smiled more and wiggled closer to Crowley and nuzzled his head into a better position, finding comfort on Crowley's bony shoulder. 

Crowley felt a warmth in his chest that spread with every beat of his heart.   
It spread through to the tips of his fingers, to the soles of his feet, to the tips of his feathers on his hidden wings. 

He gave Aziraphale's hand another squeeze and then bent his neck a bit, and tilted his head to where his red crop mixed with the blonde curls that haloed Aziraphale's head. 

"Our own side." Aziraphale murmured tracing Crowley's hand with his thumb.

Crowley smiled and turned his head just a little more and gave Aziraphale a kiss on the head.  
"Our own side angel, until the end of time." He murmured his lips pressed to that angelic halo, his eyes closed, smile dancing on his lips as he let the warmth of this moment wash over him.  
Aziraphale smiled feeling the warmth rolling off of Crowley as they sat in that intimate embrace, trading hand squeezes and forehead kisses back and forth. 

The two beings sat together on the bus, twined together, radiating a warm glow, the warmth rolling off of them with the deepest sense of friendship and love that anyone in a thousand square kilometers could feel, anyone in heaven or hell could feel.  
Because they were on their own side now, and they were free.


End file.
